The Blacksmith I
by Laerthel
Summary: Second Age. Elrond gets a command from his king Gil-Galad to find the evil lurking in Eregion. The task would be simple if he could easily tell evil from good...


**The blacksmith**

The summer was stifling and hot; hotter than any summer Elrond could recall. The Misty Mountains rose on the horizon like enormous stone castles, hiding the lands behind. The air was thick with steam; Elrond could feel a storm approaching. A long and violent one, according to the lack of any motion in the air. The view of the lands seemed to stiffen in front of his eyes and breathing was hard as if the air was refusing to enter his lungs.

Elrond laid down on the silk-like grass, waiting for the rain to freshen him. He'd already spent three uneventful months enjoying the hospitality of Celebrimbor but he couldn't even manage to finish the task he'd been given.

"I like nothing of this chap, this Aulendil," Gil-Galad had told him. "We didn't talk much, to be sure, but I have an uncomfortable feeling about this Valinorian blacksmith or whatever he calls himself. I can't imagine anyone to wander this far from the Undying Lands. Maybe to Numenor but not _here_. This Aulendil seems to be full of secrets and once revealed, we would like none of them I fear. I spoke to Celebrimbor but he's deaf for my advice. This mysterious stranger slowly seizes all power in Eregion. He makes all smiths turn to him... we must do something."

Elrond had to smile as his memories and a breeze of fresh wind reached him. The storm was coming.

_We must do something_ in Gil-Galad's words meant _Elrond_ would do something with his king messing around, calling everyone a desperate idiot, making hundreds of plans beyond the original, giving quick and unpatient advices and – most of all – complaining about Elrond not letting him help when finally the battle, argument or ally was won. Since he and his king knew each other Elrond couldn't recall a single week passing without king Gil-Galad's confession about how he was his right hand and how he would have never gotten far without him. And that was true, Elrond had to admit; but he couldn't have survived the loss of Beleriand without his king either. He wasn't about to forget _that_. Elrond and Gil-Galad were friends, sworn brothers and allies; whatever happened they could trust each other. Now, however, Elrond felt like he was about to let his king down.

The command had been simple: _go to Eregion, discover the plans of Aulendil, find out his real name, his origin and his intentions. If they are ill_ – and king Gil-Galad would swear they were -, _convince Celebrimbor about Aulendil's wickedness and make him exile the mysterious blacksmith._

Elrond had arrived to Eregion full of hope, honoured by the task he'd been given, but as weeks (later months) passed he couldn't even approach to his original purposes.

Eregion was living its golden age. The mines proved an inexhaustible richness in gold, silver and _mithril_; new blades, arrows, armours and jewels were made: lighter, harder, shinier, almost unbreakable. Wonderful crystals were found in deep, hollow caves under the immense peak called Zirak and breath-taking diamonds were cut out of them. Hundreds and thousands of smiths were living ang working in peace near the mountains. Alliances were made between the Dwarves of Moria and the Elves of Eregion; and the greatest supporter of the evoken friendship between the two races proved to be none other than the mysterious Aulendil. Elrond had heard him greeting the dwarvish delegation and later delivering his speech to the people of Eregion...

"For so many years, Elves and Dwarves were alienated from each other. As wars were raging, as alliances were made and broken, as Evil reached for your lands, your loved ones, your _souls_ to make you fight against your old friends, the children of Illuvatar and Aule lost contact. Even though you were all made to live happily, to reclaim and guard your homelands and to be friends, as one kind, as one blood. To strengthen each other. To understand each other and – indeed – to fight evil. But Morgoth the Black-Hearted was defeated. You have no enemy now; the only evil you have to face is your own pride and the lack of confidence you're cherishing in your hearts. It's time to end your eternal battle of souls, of interests, of blood and kin. It's time to befriend each other, to form an alliance that would make both of your kin stronger. Forget the old sins and make amends for all!"

_This is not a blacksmith but an orator,_ Elrond had thought, eyeing Aulendil. The stranger was tall and slim; his hair black as death, black as coal, his eyes golden, his skin ghost-pale, his arms and legs long and slender. Yet he possessed a strange, haunted beauty and all his words, all his acts, all his gestures seemed loyal, kind and good.

_But were they?_

A raindrop fell from the sky and landed right on his nose. Elrond closed his eyes, relying himself on his nostrils. The fresh smell of rain grew stronger around him.

"This storm shall grow bigger than you think. You'd better come back to the city, my lord."

He opened his eyes. Aulendil was standing above him, a long chisel and two hammers hanging from his belt. The blacksmith's hands were dark from coal and oil.

"I like rain," Elrond said, hesitating.

"Me as well,"Aulendil nodded and he sat beside him.

The rain started to fall harder; it filled the pits in the ground but the water vanished in a second as the earth stirred all up. The lands were drinking quickly and eagerly.

Aulendil watched his hands as the rain washed them down, oil, coal and dirt dissolving in the misty air. Elrond gazed at him and couldn't help but asked:

"Who are you?"

Aulendil turned to him, his lips curving into a bitter smile.

"Why would you care, my lord? You're not fond of me anyway."

_Is that so damn obvious?_

"If I've ever offered you an insult, please accept my deepest apologies. But it's not the lack of sympathy that made me ask this, my lord. It's just that I've been thinking about you for a long while... and it seems to me you're no blacksmith. A blacksmith is not an orator, as we both know. I was watching you yesterday..."

"You were rather _spying_ me," Aulendil said in a musing tone. "But I'm afraid I don't understand why. The Valar bless everyone with certain talents. Why can't I have a talent for both forging and speaking? Do these two capacities expel each other? Doubtfully. You have no trust in me because you don't want to have any. I can't help it, Lord Elrond. But at least you have to see that I did no harm to the people of Eregion. I just offer my help everywhere I can."

"And that's the very thing that makes me think and don't judge you by first sight," Elrond said, admiring the straight, come-to-the-point sincerity of Aulendil. "I've been wondering about you without result... the only thing that's certain is, talented or not, you're nothing of a blacksmith for you're doing rather the tasks of a leader."

"And I'm abandoning my tasks as a smith, is it that?"

"I meant nothing by it."

"Very well," Aulendil said, "because of the two of us, it's not me who has abandoned his mission."

Elrond gazed at Aulendil as if the blacksmith have slapped his face.

"Why so? Is my mission to admire you like all the others do?"

"No. Your mission is to banish me. Or wasn't that what your king commanded?"

Elrond could feel vanishing the rest of confidence he had in the blacksmith.

"How'd you came by that?"

"I'm not blind,"Aulendil smiled politely. "We're supposed to be enemies, Lord Elrond of Lindon. Yes, we _are_. But telling you once again: _I'm not blind_. I can see what you can not... or what you don't want to see. That's why we're wasting our time out in the storm, soaking wet and that's why I'm not exiled and you are not rotting in the dungeons."

Elrond decided to save what he could.

"My king commanded me to find the evil lurking in Eregion and to make and end of it whether it is you or not."

"Forget your king for a while," Aulendil sighed. "I'm talking about _you_."

"I shall not forget my king as I am his sworn sword."

"Sworn _sword_, but not sworn mind, sworn soul, sworn existence!" Aulendil snapped. "You have a personality on your own. I'm not talking to a sword but to Elrond Peredhil."

Elrond gazed at him and said nothing. And Aulendil went on with his speech, lightly, in a low, almost shy voice.

"The evil you're searching for is in the mountains. Hordes of Orcs, I tell you. They're about to gain back their strength and they want to attack Eregion and rob the mines. I know, because I've _seen_. You were right, Peredhil, I'm not a blacksmith but neither I am your enemy. I came here to give strength to the people of Eregion, to help Celebrimbor and to form an alliance between Elves and Dwarves. I want to save them and I want to save them with their own weapons as I have no army and I am no wizard. But I have... other skills. In the dungeons deep I'm working on something that can offer us victory on a golden tray. You're wise, a hero and a great warrior, Lord Elrond, and I need your friendship. To be honest, I can't get far without it... but your wiseness, doubtless a great virtue of yours, puts a stop to my plans. That's why I decided to trust you like I trust no one... and that's why I decided to show you the weapons I'm working on. If you follow me, you can see them."

_My king would want me to follow_. Elrond hated the idea of being a turncloak but he had to learn Aulendil's plans.

"You're making me curious," he said with a little smile. "Show me what you shall."

"Very well," Aulendil smiled back. "I will... but not now. My own workroom is half a mile away from here and another few miles deep under the mountains. We're going to get a bad cold anyway but I would not risk that long walk now."

As if to verify his sense, a lightning stroke dangerously near to them. The thunder roared as they jumped afoot and ran back to the town. It was late; they found the gate closed so the guards ran over to get Celebrimbor's command to let them in. This was a new law in Eregion, a law suggested by Aulendil. After nightfall, anybody: high-or lowborn, lord or lady, habitant or guest had to claim the Lord's agreement to get behind the walls.

"These weapons of yours..." Elrond said as they were waiting.

"Not so loud,"Aulendil whispered. "No one knows. Not even Lord Celebrimbor."

Elrond felt a sudden uneasiness growing in his stomach.

"Why would you show them to _me_, then?"

"Told you I need your trust. You won't believe me unless you see them... ask what you wanted as well."

"These weapons of yours," Elrond repeated, "are they... blades? Armours? Or something like the Silmarils?"

"Silmarils?" Aulendil laughed softly. "I wish I was so skilled... no, my friend, I'm working on rings."

There was a loud_ crack_ and the gate opened.


End file.
